I’ve been trying to throw a set of mugs. I’m not brilliant at producing matching items, but with scales and a ruler I usually get pots which look like siblings (though rarely twins). Yesterday evening’s are only first cousins.
Tonight’s are third cousins at best.
I’m listening to audio books again, so shall I blame Alexander McCall Smith? Perhaps his narrative is intrinsically unrhythmical?
Or perhaps I can blame the weather for making me slothful and dopey. And yes, it’s sousing down again.